'They've not all been mistakes,' Tom chuckled. 'Some of those fellows need to be taken down a notch or two.'
'That's not for you to decide.'
'They're pompous pricks.'
'They're chiefs.' Thunder shouted back. 'If you insult them, you insult every member of their clan.'
Tom held out the Sword Master's dripping head and considered the point.
'Aye ... you could be right. I've been a bit hasty on occasions.'
'You need to guard your tongue.' Thunder kept up the attack. 'I'm spending too much time telling people you don't mean what you say.'
Back on the bank, Tom rushed through the social niceties of displaying his trophy. Morgon's army was coming forward with military precision. Tom rid himself of the head and turned his attention to the tightly disciplined ranks of grey-clad soldiers, advancing towards them in a solid body. Five thousand men, shields locked, marching to the beat of the drum and the wail of bagpipes.
He glanced at the queen who was staring impassively at Morgon's troops. Tom was filled with admiration for the old woman. Despite age and infirmity, she had taken her place at the head of her people. She was imperturbable. She did not flinch or show the slightest sign of alarm as the enemy drew closer. He waited for her to give the order to attack.
Then, admiration gave way to alarm. There was something disturbing about the lack of action. Tom looked at the shrinking gap between the enemy and the bank. If something wasn't done soon, it would be too late. He struggled to find words that would not offend royal sensibilities ... then decided he couldn't wait.
'Majesty. It could be time to spring the trap.'
The old woman stared ahead.
'Majesty. If we wait any longer it could be too late.'
'Don't be so sure,' the words trickled from the old woman's mouth. 'That Morgon is a master of the crooked art.'
'He's certainly a tricky sort,' Tom agreed. 'That's why I think we should alert our forces.'
The queen's attention was focused on a flight of birds.
Tom couldn't contain himself any longer.
'Majesty. We have to alert our forces.'
'When the Holy Mother ordains it.'
Tom looked to Thunder but the little man's eyes were on the birds. Morgon's forces were no more than two hundred paces away, advancing in slow measured steps.
'Holy Mother.'
Tom said a silent prayer and the birds went into a dive. The queen's face sprang into action. Like one who had received a command from heaven, she raised her arm.